


Tumblr Works

by Polkiuj



Category: Original Work
Genre: Animal Play, Ass Play, BDSM, Body Modification, Butt Plugs, Chastity Device, Cock & Ball Torture, Collars, Dildos, Dubious Consent, Edgeplay, Erotic Electrostimulation, High Fantasy, Inspired by Art, M/M, Master/Slave, Nipple Clamps, Objectification, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Prostate Milking, Rope Bondage, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2019-09-15 16:44:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16936953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polkiuj/pseuds/Polkiuj
Summary: Just a bunch of writing I did on Tumblr when the inspiration hit me from art before they banned all NSFW content.





	1. Toy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by daedalosart, previously on Tumblr, now on Twitter.

Just playing around with [@daedalosart](https://twitter.com/daedalosart/status/1053727263345139712)‘s OC.

Jack knelt on the locker room floor in nothing but his sweaty jockstrap waiting for his coach to step out of the shower. The man he called Master.

They were all alone in the building, all the other gym goers had finished up fifteen minutes ago since it was almost closing time, but Master was actually the owner of the gym so it was fine.

Heat stirred in Jack’s belly as he thought about the intense workout that Master had drilled him through earlier. His dick perked up a little at the memory of Master barking instructions and dolling out encouragement in equal measure.

“Ten more lifts, then you can take a break! Go! One. Two. Three. Four. C'mon, Jack! Don’t you a quit on me now!… Yes! That’s it. And…Five! Good job, Jack. Keep going, don’t stop! Six! And…Seven! Fucking fantastic, Jack! Just three more, I know you can do it! Yes! Eight…Nine…And Ten!”

Jack had barely been hanging on by a thread. As soon as Master had secured the weight bar to the frame Jack’s arms turned to jelly and flopped down to his sides on the bench with two meaty thuds.

Master had crouched down from where he spotted for Jack to press their foreheads together and murmured low enough for only them to hear, “Good boy, Jack. You were so strong for me, such a good Toy”

And Jack had sucked up the praise like a dry sponge dropped in water. Unfolded like a flower in the sunlight. It had felt so good to hear Master praise him despite the burning in his arms and chest.

Jack attended the gym just about every day after he got off the soul crushing board-meetings he had inherited along with the company from his father. Rest his soul.

The sheer joy of being able to pull off the suffocating suit and tie he had to wear for work and let loose on the first available weight machine was what had initially attracted Jack to this place. Freedom.

Fitting name. Freedom was what it had become for him, in so many ways.

No other gym had the hightech setup of Freedom. State of the art electronic systems that monitored and managed your output in order to tailor your training to your desired results.

The locker rooms had a more rustic appearance for atmosphere.

Eventually Jack had caught the eye of the owner, the man who would become his Master.

The sound of running water shut off and a short while later Master stepped out, water still dripping from his hair down his dark skin, only a towel wrapped low on his hips.

At the sight of his Master, Jack felt his face heat and crossed his arms behind his back, wanting to look presentable.

Master stepped forward and grabbed Jack’s hair in a strong hand. Jack arched into the hold with a happy sigh.

“Who’s my good Toy?” Master rumbled and tugged just a bit.

“Me, Master,” Jack hissed. “I’m your Toy. I wanna be good for you, Master. Please?”

“You are. You will,” Master assured warmly. “You are my very good Toy. You want to be put to good use and taken care of, don’t you?”

“Yes, Master! Please use me, please!”

“So eager, yet so polite. I appreciate good manners. Very well. I think I know what I want to use you for tonight,” Master purred, releasing his grip.

Jack sank into himself further, already going loose and easy. Master turned to the duffel-bag he’d dropped in the corner earlier and pulled out a sizable plug along with a small bottle of lube. Jack’s cock twitched in his jock and he didn’t need to look to know there was now a dark spot of pre-come.

“This goes in first,” Master said, holding up the plug. It was mostly made up of dark rubber in a tapered bulb. small spots of the surface was metal though, and the heavy base told Jack that this was no doubt one of Master’s high-tech butt plugs. “Bend over for me, Toy.”

Jack wasted no time pushing his face and chest into the dirty tiled floor and his ass up into the air. Master hummed in satisfaction as he pried apart Jack’s meaty ass cheeks with one hand to reveal the hairless ripe hole.

Cold lube drizzling had Jack gasp and then moan as a hot slim finger pressed for entrance. Letting his ring muscles relax with practiced discipline, Jack felt Master penetrate his body.

A second finger joined the first after a minute of shallow thrusting bringing another couple drops of slightly less cold lube. The stretch felt amazing and Jack moaned again. Master just chuckled and added a third digit so that it burned deliciously for a moment.

This was Heaven. Opening up for his Master. Letting himself be used and played with. Nothing could be better.  

Eventually Master’s fingers withdrew, and Jack sighed dissatisfaction. A sharp slap against his left cheek and a warning “Toy,” put an end to that though.

“‘m sorry, Master!” Jack whimpered. He didn’t mean to be bad. Even just that mild correction made him feel so ashamed.

“It’s alright, my Toy,” Master soothed. “I know you’re trying your best. But I expect better from here on out. Understood?”

“Yes, Master! Thank you, thank you, thank- Uh!” Jack grunted in shock halfway through as something thick, blunt and unyielding forced its way inside his open hole.

There was no mercy. Jack was very grateful for the prep as his ass stretched out. Luckily the plug itself also seemed to have been given a generous covering of lube because though the width was substantial there was no bite of friction. Just a steady and unimpeded dilation of Jack’s sphincter.

Then, without warning, Jack’s ass closed around the neck, pulling the plug into place. Jack groaned at the full feeling while Master just brushed down his thigh.

“Kneel up again,“ Master ordered. You’re not done yet, Toy.”

Out of the bag came a couple of coils of red rope in smooth hemp, and Jack froze for a moment. They’d never played with rope before, just leather cuffs and chains.

“Toy?” Master asked, noticing Jack’s hesitation. “What’s your safeword, Toy?”

“Football, Master.” Jack locked up from the rope at the much smaller guy who could get him on his knees without raising a finger. “My safeword is ‘football’, but I don’t need to use it right now, Master. I trust you.” The last part came out soft and small just like how Jack felt right then.   

That got Jack a kiss on the mouth. Just a quick peck but Master carded a hand through Jacks hair and held his head close. Another peck on the forehead before Master said “Sweet Mary. You’re too good to me. I Love you so much, my gorgeous Toy.”

“Love you too, Master.”

“Let’s get you wrapped up before I snap and eat you, hm?” Master pulled back to unwrap the rope.

“Yea,” Jack breathed.

Turns out it took time to tie someone up properly, but Jack just enjoyed the attention. It felt so good to be the sole focus of his Master for an extended amount of time. The result was amazing, the ropes dug into his bulky muscles just right but didn’t bite or pinch. The harness kept his arms squared behind his back and forced his chest out proudly while the loops around thigh and calf kept him on his knees.

“Almost done,” Master mused.

“Hm?” Jack hummed.

A a skin-safe sharpie came out of the bag next and before Jack could think to ask, Master had already written out the word TOY across his meaty pecs.

Jack felt his face heat up and his dick gave another twitch inside his dirty jock; He loved it when Master marked him like that, like a possession.

“Oh, that’s just the start of it. You think you’re blushing now?” Master asked. “Just wait for it.”

Then he took a pair of safety scissors out of the bag and actually cut the jockstrap apart, pulling the pieces off of Jack’s body with a flick of the wrist.

“There. Much better, don’t you think,Toy?” Master said and pressed a button on his smartphone.

Jack grit his teeth against the surge of arousal and gasped as the plug came to life right against his prostate. Not just vibrating, but actually running a low current through his ass. “Yes, Master! Thank you, master, for using your toy!” Jack groaned, dripping more pre-come.

“I’m glad you liked it, Toy,” Master crooned. “There is more where that came from.”

And then the tingling inside Jack’s body deepened into something not entirely unlike pain. His cock surged into full hardness so fast he almost went faint from the blood rushing from his head into his head. He cried out in pleasure. His body was shaking in the bonds.

Master just stood there, basking in the debasement of the much larger man in front of him, palming his own cock through the towel.

“Please, Master. Please. Pe-permission to cum, Master?” Jack whimpered; Good toys asked first.

“Hm. Not yet,” came the casual response. Master seemed to be absorbed with something on his phone, suddenly too preoccupied to bother looking up.  

Jack bit his lip not to beg more. It drove him fucking wild when Master denied him and pretended to ignored him like that even though Jack knew that all it would take was a single word for the game to end.

It went on and on. When Jack felt himself closing in on the edge the plug would inexplicably power down and let him catch his breath before ramping up again. Completely without any input from Master.

Until, finally, some timer went off on Master’s phone and he looked up. “Well, look at that. Test-run successful, I’d say.”

Jack moaned in a way that sounded a bit like a question.

“Oh. You’ll get it soon enough.” Master grinned. “And you have permission to cum, Toy.”

With that, he pressed yet another button. And Jack felt his ass explode as an electric shock set of his orgasm.

All that raw heat surged out of his body, out of his balls, through his dick. Jack screamed until his throat felt torn and then, when all the air had left him, just sat there panting, trying to catch his breath, trying to understand what he happened.

“Did you like to cum, Toy?” Master asked and tilted Jack’s face up with a hand back in his hair.

“Y-yesss…M-m-mas-ster,” Jack halfway sobbed. He felt wrung out and fragile, like the only thing keeping him together was the pretty red ropes around his body and Master’s hand in his hair. Jack let himself go slack, completely trusting.

Master made use of his Toy, fucked into Jack’s pliant mouth and let him taste his cum. Though Jack was only marginally aware of that, free floating in his own head but happy all the same to be of use to his Master.

Eventually Jack came back around to Master untying him and washing him off in the warm water of the showers, a steady hand holding him safe from tripping on the slippery floor, wrapping him in a big fluffy towel, feeding him his strawberry protein shake through a straw, all the while a strong yet gentle voice kept on crooning praise in his ear.

Jack went back home to his fancy penthouse apartment that night, content and happy, along with the high tech plug and a new metal cock cage to wear at all times.

“I think it’s time to move to the next stage of your training, Toy,” Master had said while he waved Jack off.

* * *

It had been a week into Jack’s new training regime. During that time his Master had made frequently use of him, but the cage had yet to come off. He had a spare key in his apartment for emergencies of course. Not that Jack had looked at the drawer it was in even once.

Naturally, that didn’t stop him from getting hornier than he had ever been before in his life. Master fucked his ass and his throat regularly, even rubbing off in between the thick slabs of his pectorals at night after the gym closed.

During the days, the plug had played with his endurance; starting up randomly whenever Jack was in a meeting, toying with him mercilessly. And yet, he had not been allowed to cum once during that time.

By this point Jack felt like he was going insane. He loved it.

Like that evening, Jack was kneeling on the gym locker room floor once more, tied up with red ropes and blushing enough to match.

“Good Toy,” Master praised. Jack felt himself starting to ooze pre-come between the bars of the cage. A feeling he had gotten very used to over the course of the week.

The word TOY had been refreshed at every training session and so stood out clear across his chest; Jack’s Master’s mark.

“You have done so well I think it’s time for a reward,” Master continued. Jack preened and looked up hopefully, but Master just rubbed his chest and pinched his nipples.

Jack gasped.

“Now hold still, Toy, while I attach your accessories.”

Master pulled out a pair of weighted nipple clamps from his left pocket and closed them, one after the other, over Jack’s excitedly hard little nubs.

Jack hissed. The sting gave way to a slow burning that radiated out through his chest and down to his groin.

“Yes. Feel that, Toy? Tell me you like it.”

“I like it, Master. Please. Oh God! Master!” Jack didn’t know what he was begging for. More? Less? He was starting to shake.

That’s when the plug came to life again right up against his prostate, buzzing and zapping just shy of too much, too close to pain.

“You will cum like this, or not at all, Toy.” Master’s voice brokered no arguments.

Jack could do nothing but kneel there and endure the assault on his senses; it felt so good. His dick tried in vain to break free from its bindings but of course that earned him nothing but another souse of torment as the bars of his cock cage pressed into the swelling flesh.

Again the plug quickly ramped up the intensity on its own and Jack keened, he could feel himself approaching the edge, longed for it, for release. However it may come to him like this.

But just as he was cresting the pleasure-pain the plug shut off, leaving Jack to fall back down to earth. For a moment Jack considered using his safeword, but decided against it. This was intense, but nothing he hadn’t discussed with his Master during their negotiations.  

He screamed in frustration and longing instead, begged and babbled for Master to take mercy on him. Jack trashed in the bondage, desperate for any sensation. The biting ropes and swinging nipple clamps gave him the stabbing pain he didn’t necessarily want but definitely needed.

The thought struck him as the next wave approached; He was stuck. He was truly helpless, and, as much as it scared him, Jack couldn’t deny that this was what he craved more than anything.

To feel like an object. Just a TOY made for his Master’s amusement. Put out on display, worked over, used, picked apart and put back together again better than before, owned, marked up. Jack felt tears spill from his eyes in happiness; he was complete.

The TOY stayed like that through the wave of sensation, and the next one, and the next one after that. It screamed when its body felt like screaming, it thrashed when its body felt like thrashing. The TOY was just a collection of sensitive nerves in a solidly built body wrapped and contained like its Master wanted it. The TOY was happy to be of use.

When the TOY finally orgasmed it couldn’t process the sensation, the rush. Everything just whited out. The last thing it remembered was screaming.

* * *

“Good, Toy,” the Master murmured as Jack came back to reality.

Everything was good. Jack felt he was laying on the bench, on his back, head cradled in his Master’s lap and petted like he was something precious. That was nice, Jack thought.

Smiling like a dopey idiot, Jack squinted up at his Master’s face, just a dark brown fuzzy shadow against the harsh light coming from the ceiling.

“Love you, Master.”

“And I love you as well.”


	2. Dragon Knight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning. Check the end of chapter.

 

OCs Miguel and Aeolus belong to [@daedalosart](https://twitter.com/daedalosart/status/1051553901801951232). Other named OCs in this one-shot have no ties.

Wow! This thing sure got out of hand. My hand just slipped and “”hoops, where did this come from?”

I hope daedalos doesn’t mind that I went kind of crazy with this one.

* * *

Ser Miguel was a Dragon Knight. And damn proud of it, too.

His armor was forged with magic out of steel and the very scales of his master. It served many purposes, just as Miguel served in many ways.

The armor protected his body from harm, making him impervious to any damage. Just as Miguel protected his master with his own body.

The armor sustained him and made him stronger than he ever could have become on his own. Just as Miguel sustained and served his master with his own body.

While the armor touched his skin, Miguel had no need for sleep or food or even water, neither did he grow tired from his duties or even age. The magic in the armor made him the perfect guardian and servants.

But now Miguel wasn’t in his master’s presence. No. Miguel was on a quest.

A quest to gather as many handsome and strong virgin men from all across the lands to join him in servitude. A noble quest, in truth, for his master desired more servants. And Miguel lived to fulfill his master’s wishes.

With him, Miguel had brought additional sets of armor, identical to his own. Which would be equipped by any man he could recruit in order to bind them just like he himself was bound.

Around Miguel stood a small group of able-bodied men, farm hands and doc workers congregated from all over the small trading town Miguel had arrived in.

No doubt they had been drawn by Miguel’s body. For though the armor protected him, it actually revealed and accentuated his body in all its erotic glory. The men looked upon Miguel with lust and hunger as he flexed and posed heroically.

“And this,” Miguel proclaimed with pride in his voice as he raised a piece of spare armor into the air, “is the central part. The core representation of the Dragon Knight’s Oath.”

Some eyes turned wary at the sight of the intricately designed codpiece. The metal arches and bands decorated with elegant and fierce filigree no doubt quite intimidating for the intended use. Though Miguel found the piece he was wearing himself to be very supportive and comfortable.

“I promise not only eternal life but also glorious powers and ecstatic pleasure beyond understanding should any of you accept this calling.”

Some seemed more interested than others. A broad-shouldered older man raised his voice in a gruff question. “What is that bulb at the back? What is it for? It looks curious to me. I man the forge here in town and I’m not familiar with the metal work.”

“Ah.” Miguel answered. “That is the anal anchor for the tail.”

“The tail?” The scruffy blacksmith scratched behind an ear. “With all respect, my good Ser Knight. I see no tail neither on it or you.”

Miguel just grinned and crossed his arms over his broad chest. Silently he let the tail-chain weapon extend from between his ass cheeks, enjoying the feeling of the wide links rubbing against his flesh. The tail rose up behind his back like a snake poised to strike in an impressive display.

“This tail, my good sir,” Miguel said. He couldn’t resist the urge to perform a flourish to show of the dexterity and strength in the magical limb. The strike split an empty wooden crate next to him with a great crack. “As you can see it is a powerful weapon enchantment. With training I have learned control its movements with my the muscles in my guts. Combined with the sword and warding it makes one a powerful and  _versatile_  warrior.” Miguel chuckled at his own joke. The blacksmith went silent and blushed at the display.

One young tan skinned man, barely more than a boy really, stepped forward. Miguel could see the fire in the boy’s brown eyes. “I will take up the cause, Ser Knight,” the boy said.

“Tell me your name, lad.” Miguel smiled kindly and put a gloved hand on the youth’s shoulder.

“Alejandro, Ser Knight. Please, this is all I have ever dreamed of. I wish to serve and become like you, Ser Knight. Please, accept me!”

“There, there, lad. I like your spirit and you seem to have the proper temper for service.” Miguel reached up and ruffled the boy’s dark hair. “But you do realize that this is forever? No going back on your word.”

“Yes, Ser Knight.” Alejandro looked down at Miguel’s armored groin. “I have no future here. My family is dead, and no one will hire a a homeless person like me even though I am of able age. But if I could have a life if I go with you, then I would in a heartbeat.”

“Very well then. Remove your clothes, lad. If it is your true heart’s desire, then I will accept your vow here and now.”

Alejandro looked up in chock. “Here, Ser? But…” He glanced at the men behind him, who were looking on curiously.

“Do not be embarrassed by your own body, lad. There will be no hiding after your accolade, after all.”

Alejandro nodded with determination and practically ripped off his clothes. His body, though no where near Miguel’s, was quite well developed with muscles and nearly hairless. Though that would soon change.

Miguel felt a long since suppressed surge of lust for the boy. The red gemstones on his sheath flared up briefly to drain the pleasure and desire right out of his body.

Such desires belonged to his master, Miguel knew.

Miguel knelt down on one knee and gently grasped Alejandro’s cock in one han and brought the chastity belt close with the other hand.

Alejandro was blushing furiously at the sight and feeling of those sharp-nailed gloves grasping his sensitive flesh.

“Do you, Alejandro, swear fealty to the holder of the Dragon Knight’s Oath?” Miguel asked with ceremonial authority.

“Yes.” The soon-to-be Dragon Knight promised.

“And do you, Alejandro, swear never ending chastity upon the office of your duty?”

“Yes.” The promise was given again.

With that, Miguel bowed his head and pressed a chaste kiss to the pink head of Alejandro’s cock before easing the sheath over it and settling his balls into place with practiced motions.

Alejandro couldn’t help giving a quick shudder as the thick anchor slipped past his sphincter with surprising ease and rubbed over his taint, but outright gasped when the ribbed sounding rod pressed open his slit and slid down his urethra.

While attaching the leather straps over the hips, Miguel actually had to support the boy from falling over from the intense sensations.

With reverence, Miguel finally threaded the small magical lock through the pin on the belt’s front but didn’t shut it. Instead he brought Alejandro’s hand to hover over it.

“To symbolize the binding of your vow you must be the one to close the loop, Alejandro.” Miguel said gravely.

Alejandro took hold of the lock and gazed at the beautiful dragon symbol pressed into the thumb-sizes metal surface and paused for a minute, as if at last contemplating his choice and what it would truly mean for his future.

With his eyes fixed back on Miguel’s in an almost dazed expression Alejandro finally clicked the lock shut.

“Then by the power vested in me as Captain of the Sixty-Ninth Dragon Knight Company.”- Miguel couldn’t keep the bright smile from his face. -”I dub thee, Ser Alejandro. And embrace you as a brother-in-arms.” 

Then Miguel bowed his head again and kissed the same spot. Though this time it was to honor their master by kissing the the dragon-idol head at the end of the sheath. 

At the touch of Miguel’s lips the magic in the armor sprung to life. First the sheath re-sized itself to fit its new wearer perfectly snugly, hugging Alejandro’s cock tight and securely flaccid.

Miguel and Alejandro both moaned and closed their eyes as identical waves of pleasure surged through them, before settling back to a low comforting hum at the back of their minds. 

Miguel was used to the flow of magic that rewarded and encouraged obedience, but it all came as quite a chock to young Alejandro who buckled to his knees at the orgasmic surge of unfamiliar power, suddenly running through his unprepared body.

Meanwhile, a steady warm glow grew in brightness within Miguel’s belly. Which meant that the master was pleased with the new servant Miguel had acquired for him.

When Miguel opened his eyes it was to the sight of a much more strongly built Alejandro, wearing the same beautiful armor as himself.

Rising to his feet, Miguel turned to their audience -who were staring in wonder at the armor that had, not a second ago, appeared out of thin air on the new Dragon Knight’s shoulders- to loudly proclaim, “And now that you know of all the powers and responsibilities that come with swearing yourselves to the Dragon knight’s Oath, I ask you to step forward if you desire to join Ser Alejandro into our ranks?” 

* * *

In the end, six more men from the town chose to join, including the brusque blacksmith, Jorge, who had grown to almost match Miguel in size once he’d donned the armor. 

Seven in total would make for a good, powerful number to form a squad out of. And Miguel could already feel that Jorge would no doubt make a fine sergeant with just a little bit of experience; he already had the men’s respect. 

Once they had all regrouped with the rest of Miguel’s company, situated a bit away from the town itself so as to not cause a panic with their entire force of over one hundred men.

The company was a rowdy bunch, all of them more or less fresh recruits from some village or town Miguel had visited over the last two years since he received the quest from his master to expand the Dragon Knight’s numbers.

Miguel loved every single one of them like they were his brothers, sons and husbands all in one, because they all shared the undying devotion to their master that Miguel had helped foster.

The knights were celebrating tonight, in honor of their new brothers and the master they now served. A great bonfire burning with true dragon’s flame raged in the center of the camp. All around the fire the knights danced on the bare ground where tents had been moved back to make room.

Musical drumbeats and deep horn-calls filled the air with primal rhythm and wild fervor. The men hugging and kissing each other, rutting and grinding against all the hot bodies crowding around them.

Good food and drink piled high on two ever full long-tables framed the space from two sides. From which the festive men could gorge themselves without ever feeling full.  

Tonight was special. As a reward for their service, their master would allow them to seek bodily pleasure on their own. Up to a point of course. Men were licking and stroking each other’s nipples, sniffing armpits and sucking on fingers in absolute bliss. Meanwhile the gems on their sheaths glowed, their master feasting on the pleasure they experienced from far away.

There were certain things forever forsworn from them; their man-hoods and holes which none of them would never be allowed to touch, for they had all sacrificed the privilege of the sexual release one could find there to their master.

For Miguel’s master, their master, the holder of the Dragon Knight’s Oath, was in fact one of the rare Ancient Dragons. 

As one could expect from the paragons of all drakes, each Ancient, ever sought to hoard one particular thing over all others. To Miguel’s master, that thing was the sexual gratification of men. And as such, the ultimate mission of the Dragon Knights was to gather all of the worlds willing men and bind them to their master’s carnal thrall and so keep them there forever in the master’s hoard.

Miguel himself sat a bit away from the celebration, just because he so enjoyed to watch his men revel like this. Taking in the splendor of his knights like this had become something of a pleasure al its own for Miguel after so many recruitment celebrations.

Not to say that he didn’t plan on joining them soon, but the night was young still, and none would tire themselves out until sunrise.

It was not far into the night when a handfull of his knights approached Miguel, who noticed them because they did not seem as taken with the revelry of their brothers.

“Captain!” One of the somber knights called. “We found one of the new recruits alone in his tent, violating his vows.” Once in front of Miguel they all stopped at attention, crossing their arms behind their backs.

At this Miguel looked up with a frown from where he was seated. “Step aside, men. Show him to me.”

The tight group parted to reveal none other than young recruit Alejandro. looking very ashamed where he stood.

Miguel sighed disappointingly but noted that the boy’s broken oath had already marked him; his armor no longer showed any of the draconian iconography that signified a knight’s office. 

Instead the once imposing pauldrons had melted away and fused into a constricting posture collar and the tail-chain weapon transformed into a leash, which one of the other knights held on to and had presumably lead him with.

The fearsome dragon’s head that once decorated the tip of the boy’s sheath was nowhere to be seen, instead replaced with a humble cap.

Only the seal on the lock remained, though now glowing a bright red.

“Come here, lad. If you take your punishment without complaints like a good boy it will be over much quicker.” Miguel tiredly waved the once-knight forward and patted his knee.

Alejandro whimpered but stepped forward fast enough and laid down on his belly across Miguel’s lap.

“You have been stripped off your rank as Dragon Knight,” Miguel explained calmly but sternly as he grabbed the leash-chain before he delivered the first strike with his open gloved palm to the exposed cheeks of Alejandro’s backside.

Alejandro tried to jump out of his lap with a loud scream at the sharp pain, but Miguel did not let up on his grip even though the boy tried to push back with all his strength.

It happened from time to time that some of Miguel’s knights strayed from their vows and tried to steal that which was not theirs anymore. 

It was Miguel’s Oath-sworn duty as Captain of the Sixty-Ninth Dragon Knight Company to discipline those under his command, so in that moment he was wielding the full power of their master. Every spank would be felt in full without any magical protection from the biting edges of the clawed gauntlet.  

 Alejandro would not be released until his punishment was over, and the resistance was only extending it. But he would learn that eventually  

Another strike. Another scream.

“Let me guess. You tried to touch the cock inside of that sheath you now wear? Or did you try to finger the ass that housed the anchor to your tail-chain weapon? Hm?

Another strike. Another scream.

“Answer me, lad!” Miguel raised his voice just a bit.

Another strike. Another scream.

“Yes, Ser! I’m sorry, Ser! I won’t-”

Another strike. Another scream.

“Hush, Lad. I only wanted the answer to my question,” Miguel said and raised his hand again.

Another strike. Another scream.

“You are lucky your brothers caught you before you go further,” Miguel stated calmly. “Your could have fallen much further if you hadn’t been stopped, lad.”

Alejandro gave a confused grunt.

Another strike. Another scream.

“Ser Edmund,” Miguel addressed one of the knights still standing at attention in front of him. One of his first recruits and sergeant of that very squad, in fact, “fetch me a Mount and a Hound from the pens, and pick up a Banner while you do, if we still have one raised.” 

“Yes, Captain!” Ser Edmund saluted and marched off beyond the tents behind them. The rest of the knight who had brought Alejandro stod still, watching the spanking with sympathy in their eyes, 

Another strike. Another scream.

“You took a vow of chastity on the Dragon Knight’s Oath, lad. That means that this cock you locked up no longer belongs to you. Same goes for this tight little hole.” Miguel explained slowly, giving the sheath and anchor a tap each with a clawed finger for emphasis; He did not want to have to explain this again.

Another strike. Another scream.

“This body belongs to your master, lad. Say it.”

Another strike. Another scream.

“My body belongs to my master!” the boy sobbed but did not stop trying to buck out of Miguel’s grip.

Another strike. Another scream.

“Try again.”

Another strike. Another scream.

The pain must really be building up now, Miguel thought as he took in the glowing red of Alejandro’s ass. He took absolutely no pleasure in this. He never did. Miguel really didn’t have a mean bone in his whole body.

“My body belongs to my master!” Alejandro screamed the same thing, desperate for the pain to end.

Another, even harder strike. Another, even louder scream.

“ _Your_  body?” Miguel wished the boy would get it soon even though nothing would actually leave permanent damage here no matter how long they went on.

Another strike. Another scream.

“What-what do you mean?” Alejandro cried, tears finally breaking through his tightly shut eyes to run down his face and drip from his chin.

Another strike. And a sob.

“To  _whom_  does this body belong, lad? C’mon, lad. Use your head.  _Who_ owns this body?”

Another strike. Another sob.

A frustrated groan escaped past Alejandro’s lips, but just before Miguel let his had fall again he called out in realization, “ _this_  body belongs to my master, Captain!” 

Another strike. Another shocked sob.

“Good lad! You finally figured it out!” Miguel praised.

By now some of the knights not already standing at attention had paused their revelry to look as the punishment continued.

Another strike. Another sob.

After a minute the sobs turned to sticky hiccups and then eventually into hoarse moans as the fight slowly left the Once-Knight to just lay deflated over Miguel’s lap.

The only thing Miguel felt was relief that the boy had relaxed. That meant that the actual punishment countdown could begin; A hundred spanks as the measured quota for a first-time offender like Alejandro. As determined by their master.

Around ninety in, Ser Edmund returned with everything Miguel had asked him to bring.

“Lad, raise your eyes for a moment. There’s something I think you need to see,” Miguel ordered with a gentle, if firm, tone. One hand helped lift the boneless boy’s head with a steady grip on the leash, the other waved Ser Edmund forwards to stand within Alejandro’s field of view.

“Wha-” Alejandro breathed before receiving another strike.

“This is what would have happened to you if your brothers hadn’t stopped you,” Miguel soothed.

Crouching on all four next to Ser Edmund, held on his own leash, was a demoted knight just like Alejandro, except his armor was even more warped.

Not just collared, the Hound -for surely this sorry figure couldn’t be described as anything else- was masked over the lower half of his face with a metallic dog muzzle, the gauntlets and boots had transformed his human limbs into canine legs ended with finger-less paws to walk on. 

A whine, more animal than human, broke past the the steel chops, followed by an immediate, and sharp, tug in the leash by Edmund. In silence, the Hound continued to stare back at Alejandro with wide, soulful blue eyes.

Behind Ser Edmund stood a towering figure even more hulking than Miguel, rising over three heads above Ser Edmunds.

Though the giant would have made for quite a domineering figure that image was quickly dissipated by the restraint that bound him. The boots, similar to the Hound below, twisted his legs into two high, heelless horse hooves. Similarly hoofed hands kept in the air at the ends of a thick yoke around the neck. Grey-brown bearded mouth bound by a pronged bit gag like a beast of burden. Eyes covered by a pair of full cover blinder.

The Mount stomped a hoof and snorted past the bridle, the reins also in Ser Edmunds’s grip.

Finally. Leaned against the Ser Edmunds’s shoulder was a long metal pole. At the end, high over even the Mount’s head, the pole spit into the frame of a rack. And on that rack was the restrained form of a third disgraced knight.

The poor wretch’s limbs were held spread eagle in thick sleeves of metal, and his head encased in a featureless chrome sphere. But worst of all, the pole itself extended up to cruelly impale the Banner’s ass. 

Of the three former knights, the Banner seemed not even to be conscious, just slumped on the rack. 

Alejandro swallowed in trepidation, and the faintest sense of longing ghosted through his mind.

Another strike. Another moan.

“Do you see their sheaths, lad? See the glow?” Miguel asked.

With a bit focus, Alejandro did see. The three’s cock cages, featureless like his own, did glow in the same way as his own though less bright.

The Mount’s lock was the the clearest red, nearly as strong as Alejandro’s.

“His name was Aeolus.” Miguel followed Alejandro’s gaze. “I found him trying to fuck a doe-eyed messenger boy in the town we visited last week. As you can see, he thought he could use that thick, sheathed cock despite knowing what would happen.”

Another strike. Another moan.

“I had to pull him out by the reins because his armor transformed on him in the middle of the act. The boy was terrified and bleeding from the sheath in his ass,” Miguel murmured into Alejandro’s ear.

Another strike. Another moan. 

“That Hound was once named Diego. He tried to bring himself to completion despite losing his rank like you a few months ago, and you would likely have joined him this knight in the pens if you hadn’t been stopped.”

Another strike. Another moan.

The Hound’s lock glowed a much weaker red that the Mount’s.

Another strike. Another moan.

“The Banner up there on the pole was one of my first recruits, my greatest shame,” Miguel bit out. “A little over a year ago he actually tried to remove his armor and revoke his vows. I will not speak his name. Since then he has stayed there, where he’ll likely stay for quite a while longer by the looks of it.”

Another strike. Another moan.

The Banner’s lock glowed with a steady red.

Alejandro swallowed again as he realized what the glow represented, and made a desperate noise to Miguel.

Another strike. Another moan.

“Yes, lad. You will be able to earn back the rank of Dragon Knight with time and service”

Another strike. Another moan.

For now, you are a Page, and your duty is to follow the orders of any knight as they are above you and deserve your respect and obedience.

Another strike. Another moan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A character initially agrees to a lifelong commitment of a sexual nature without being told every detail in advance and is then punished for breaking rules he was not aware of. Hence the Dubious Consent tag.


	3. Precious

These OCs belong to [@daedalosart](https://twitter.com/daedalosart/status/1043272781557727232). I’m just playing around with them in a small fanfic.

“How does it feel, boy?” Aeolus prodded the prone figure curled up on the silken bed-sheets before him.

Mike just moaned as he managed to get the massager in his hand to hit his prostate dead center once more, causing him to see stars for just a moment behind his closed eyelids.

He desperately tried to find the same angle again but to no avail. His master was an evil genius, having him on his back on the yielding surface of the bed and trying to keep his hips raised in the air while fucking himself with a black dildo; not the easiest position to work with.

A sharp bare-handed slap landed on the exposed inside if his left thigh as Aeolus rumbled a warning “Boy.”

The scolding tone of his master’s voice, more than the pain of the spank itself, caused Mike to whimper and open one eye.

Aeolus was standing off to his right next to the bed, arms crossed, towering and stern above him, and that was when Mike realized he had missed what the question was entirely.

“’m sorry, sir. Ah-I wasn’t listening. I’m so sorry, sir!” Mike said, hot with shame, and that just drove him to plunge the toy deeper into his upturned ass.

“And why weren’t you listening, boy?” His master didn’t give an inch.

“Felt too good, sir. Sorry, sir. Ah! Thank you, sir.” Mike pressed out in-between gasping for breath. He was so close now, just a little more and he could finally find release.

“Stop.”

Mike twitched but ceased his fervent pistoning of the dildo, and felt the tingling edges fade from the orgasm he had been about to crash into at last.

A frustrated whine broke free from between Mike’s teeth before he could swallow it back down.

With a raised eyebrow Aeolus did not look any more impressed by that little slip than he had a minute ago. He tsc’d in disappointment and reached down to grab a hold of Mike’s genitals in one giant hand.

Unable to control himself, Mike hissed and threw his head to the side, biting his lips from screaming outright.

The scorching pressure in his full ball-sack turned even the lightest touch into a torture, and the, by now, pre-come slicked bars of the tight cock cage kept him from feeling anything but the most taunting of brief skin on skin-contact.

His master had kept Mike in chastity for several months now, barely even acknowledging the existence of his cock outside of when he took care of the bi-weekly cleaning.

Not to mention the intermittent nights where Mike would be allowed in his master’s bed, cuddled as the little spoon, but forced to endure Aeolus abstractedly fondling his sore balls for hours on end until they both fell asleep; Aeolus in smug comfort and Mike out of sheer frustrated exhaustion.

Now this much rough contact and attention to his neglected crotch had Mike’s brain flash warningly with over-stimulation. He gasped and stared out into the void until a strong finger curled around the D-ring on his collar and turned his head back to where he met the steady gaze of Aeolus, who was now crouching over him with one knee braced on the bed.

Eyes no longer sharp with discipline but soft with concern, looked into Mike’s.

“How’re you doing, Miguel, my precious? Do you need me to slow down?” Aeolus asked, voice raw with emotions.

Warm affection struck Mike in the chest like a sledgehammer at the use of his name and he surged up to capture his lover in a tender kiss.

Momentarily surprised, it took Aeolus a second before he enthusiastically returned the kiss, deepening it, slanting his head just right and making their tongues dance around each other in the shared heat between their lips.

For a perfect moment that seemed to drag out into eternity and yet ended far too soon, there was nothing else.

But then Mike had to pull back to breathe and Aeolus let him, lowering his head back to the bed with the finger still holding onto the collar.

The rest of his body came back to him, the fact that Aeolus was still grinding his dick and balls as part of the scene they had been playing out just before this check-in.

He was actually starting to feel the exhaustion setting in for real now since they had been at it for over an hour, his master had just pulled the stopper out of the hollow sound attached to the cage and told him to get going before sitting back to watch as Mike tried to milk himself while maintaining the stress-position.

But Mike really wanted to continue, he really wanted to cum and he knew that the only way he was going to get what he wanted was by moving forward; safe-wording out of this particular scene would not necessarily mean getting out of the cage.

They had a different stop signal for different things. Most notably a separate one just for getting out of chastity since Mike was locked up all the time, not just during their scenes.

Achieving an anal orgasms while cage had been one of Mike’s biggest fantasies ever since he’d learned it was a thing.

“I’m good. Don’t stop, don’t hold back, please.” Mike husked into the space between them, determination burning in his eyes.

A brilliant smile broke out across Aeolus’s face, and quickly morphed into a playfully cruel smirk.

Mike to swallow with a gulp in equal measure of apprehension and anticipation; he knew what that smile meant.

“Tell me, boy, who does these belong to?” Aeolus growled once more and squeezed Mike’s balls in an iron grip, the gentle lover truly gone and in his place was only the unwavering master.

“Ah- I-I-yours, sir! Master’s, sir! They are yours, master! Oh g- please, sir, it hurts, it hurts, p-please!” Mike wailed, all restraint gone in the face of that awesome pain.

His master gave sharp little tug on the collar, just to make him quiet down for a bit and said, “It’s good that you understand, boy. I want these balls to suffer, all red and swollen with cum for me.”

“Yes, sir, for you, sir, thank you sir!” Mike whimpered as the pressure let up when his master released his death grip.

“Now. Fuck that hole!” His master barked. “I want to see you squirt for me like a good boy tonight, or else you won’t get another chance for a long, long time.”

Mike wasted no time starting to pump the dildo in his lube wet ass again.

“Widen your legs,” his master warned, and Mike forced his thighs apart from where he’d unconsciously been trying to close them in an feeble attempt to protect himself.

“Faster. You have sixty seconds.”

Mike went into overdrive, pure desperation driving him to find his prostate before time ran out, screaming as he worked his hand as fast as he could.

He lost track of the time, the seconds melting together until with a shout he found the right angle and locked up every other muscle not to lose it again and pounded away.

The sound was obscene, wet squelching from the dildo as it moved with a blur, it probably looked worse even worse.

Mike tried to imagine what his master must be seeing, muscles shiny with sweat, whole body straining with the effort, heavy cock cage bouncing in pace with his rocking hips and whipping pre-come all over the bed, balls near purple against his pale taint, ass-lips puckering red around the violent intrusion and trying to suck it further in with every thrust.

The pleasure spiked quickly, nearly into pain, but Mike bared through it and felt himself reach the edge.

Reach it.

Wavering.

And tipping over.

The orgasm hit him like nothing before, explosive just like the load of white cum spurting out through the tip of his caged cock and landing all over his chest and face.

Then his muscles gave out and he fell back down flat on his back, dead to the world.

…

When Mike finally started to come around it was to the voice of his lover and master praising him, calling him a good boy, letting him know how beautiful he was and many, many more wonderful things.

Mike smiled and tried curling closer to those nice words that made his insides all warm gooey, finding himself encased in Aeolus’s arms, both of them wrapped in thick blankets.

There were no words that Mike could summon up, so he just snuggled closer and pressed his face into the side of Aeolus’s neck and fell back asleep.

“Happy Birthday, my precious,” Aeolus murmured against his temple.


	4. Good Boy

Inspied by Daedalos' art on [twitter](https://twitter.com/daedalosart/status/1061715619937058816). I am just borrowing his character and named him Connor for this story.

* * *

 

“Oh. Hi, Conor. Sorry I’m late. I love seeing you all undressed for me though,” I say with a fond sigh as I step into the hotel room we have rented for the night. “Your body is so gorgeous, every part of it.“

Connor has his arms crossed protectively across his chest and a forced frown on his face. Other than a pair of tight, yellow briefs he is standing bare in front of the queen sized bed in the middle of the room.

His light blue eyes waver from mine and flicker down to the safer territory of my snow logged boots. “Wanted to…for you…Sir?” He murmurs, the end rising up into a question, and he looks back up again as if to gauge my reaction.

“Aww, Realy?” I coax, giving him a loop-sided little smile. “You make a guy feel all special when you treat him like that. I really appreciate it, Connor. Thank you,” 

A startled, happy expression flashes in his eyes before the frown returns like an ill-fitted Halloween mask over his face.

Shrugging out of my coat I take in the way he is standing slightly to the side, his body tilted ever so subtle towards the bed.

“How’s your day been treating you?” I ask, finally shaking off the boots and set them on the humble little shoe rack next to the door. The carpeted floor is soft and comfortably heated under my cold feet.

Connor’s face cracks again, eyebrows raise and mouth dropping open into a small ‘o’ at my genuine question. “Fine.” He shrugs. “Just, you know. Work and stuff.”

I nod. “Yea. I know what you mean,” I chuckle under my breath. “This storm sure took me by surprise. I almost didn’t make it, some poor souls ended up in a car accident on the freeway and two lanes had to be shut off so traffic was a crawl.”

A shiver runs down Connor’s frame. At my mention of the vicious cold outside or the road incident, I’m not sure, but I can tell he wants me to change the subject.

“So,“ I switch thread with a gesture towards him. “Looks like you’ve gotten ready for me in the mean while, but I just want to check if you still want to keep going as we planned for tonight.”

He frowns just a bit deeper.

“Because it’s totally ok if you’ve changed your mind. I would understand.”

“But…I’m…” Connor huffs. “I already…took my clothes off, I’ve been waiting for you…” Then he hugged himself a little tighter and looked down at my feet again. “Don’t you wanna…I mean-”

“Connor,” I interrupt his train of thought before he can go down that path. “I want to, very much so in fact. I just have to make sure that you are OK with going forward.” When the frown doesn’t let up I continue a little more earnest. “Connor. Permission is never implicit. And you always have the right to back out of sex if something feels bad. Even if you agreed to it earlier and later on changed your mind about it.”

Connor lets out a small “Oh.” His brows relaxing,

“I want our time together to be a pleasurable experience for both of us and that requires us to be Safe, Sane and Consensual.” I emphasize my point by gesturing with my hands, one at a time and cupping them together.

 _‘I’m so glad he found me before some creep could take advantage of his innocence and hurt him,’_  I think as his sea-blue eyes light up with a warm smile that just melts my heart. Some tension goes out of Connor’s shoulders, arms uncross to fold his hands in front of crotch without really noticing he’s doing it.

“So?” I ask.

“I’m go- I mean, I want…” A light blush breaks out across Connor’s cheeks as he powers on, “…to do the things we talked about.” He starts playing with his fingers, which draws my attentions to his underwear. “I already put it on!” he pipes up suddenly, a bit excitedly.

“You have?”

He nods.

“Wanna show me?”

A gasp, another nod. Then he goes to pull the briefs off, thumbs under the waistband and freezes with a quick panicked look at me. He shuffles around sideways so his hip hides the package before pulling off the last of his clothes.

Though the brief view of his rear is really nice, when Connor turns back around he has his hands carefully hiding his crotch again.

I look up into his eyes and give him a gentle smile to urge him on and, after attempting to return it, he pulls his trembling hands away to revealing the shiny curves of metal there.

The cock cage is very small. Yet it hugs his flaccid cock just tight enough to push his sack up and forward to cradle it like a pillow. The head of the cock is protected by a dome. He is also completely shaved down there, except for a  trim patch of dark hair to crown the V of his pelvis.

“So beautiful,” I breathe.

“I couldn’t wait. So I-I… but I wasn't supposed to, right? I mean, you probably wanted to do it yourself, so. Um. I’m sorry!”

“No. No. You did good, you’re good,” I assure, and he looks ready to fall to his knees just a little at the praise. I remember out text chatt about what he wants me to call him, so I repeat slow and steady, “You’re good. Being so good for me. My Good Boy.”

Connor’s breath hitches in his throat and a happy little sound escapes. “I’m good?” he asks, faintly disbelieving.

“Yes, you are," I assure him. "You’re such a Good Boy. That’s what you want right, to be a Good Boy for me?”

“Yes! Yes, please, Sir!” He takes a short aborted step towards me, arms out, beseeching. “That’s what I want, Sir. I want to be yours, Sir!”

“OK…Boy,” I try out the endearment, a bit rattled by the fluttering in my stomach from hearing Connor call me ‘Sir’ in that way. “Where did you put the key, Boy? You brought it with you, didn’t you?” I raise my chin, testing the power that Connor is offering me over him.

“Right here, Sir.” Connor scrambles over around to the bedside table on the left and rushes over to me, key in hand.

I am struck once more by Connor’s sheer size as he comes to a stop in front of me. At almost a head taller than me and twice as broad across the shoulders he could snap me like a twig without even trying if he wanted to. And yet. He is the one standing stark naked and about to hand over the autonomy of his dick to me.

The realization seems to come to Connor as well, so he shuffles his feet and tries to shrink himself down.

I take the still outstretched key, along with the thin chain necklace it is on and hang it over my head.

"Good boy," I say and pet his head like a dog. Connor gasps. "You want to get down on your knees for me, Boy?"

A full body shudder rustles over Connor. He nods, legs going dangerously wobbly.

I guide him down with a hand carefully holding onto his hair. I have to groan at the picture he makes then; bare and relaxed below me, hooded blue eyes staring back up, all that strength gone soft in submission.

A churning ache in my stomach stops me before I can go too much farther. "You okay, Connor? Still comfortable with this? Hey, I'm checking in with you here. Can you give me a color?"

Connor just grins loose and easy. "'m good, Sir." And I can tell he is already flying above the fucking atmosphere.  _'This freaking guy is such a natural!'_ I think to myself. "Green, Sir. Please, Sir," he says after a pause like it's an afterthought. 

_'And so adorable I feel like I'm gonna die! I can't fuck this up for him, if I do then I don't fucking deserve to call myself a Dom.'_

"You wanna get on the bed for me, Boy?" My voice goes ridiculously high there for just a moment. Connor doesn't seem to notice, or care if he did, just turns around on his knees and crawls over and up on the bed. Waving his bubble butt in my face without noticing he's doing it. He stays on his knees but lowers his chest to the bed so his ass is in the air, and then he fucking crosses his wrists behind his back so his face gets smooched into the mattress and sighs like a content puppy dog.  
  
I just stand there with my mouth open like a fish for a moment before shaking out of the daze and step up over Connor's prostrated form. He shivers when my shadow looms across him and I gently stroke a finger down the back of his thigh. Connor jumps just a little but I shush him and say, "Wider." He immediately shuffles his legs further apart. "Good Boy," I praise, because he fucking deserves to hear it, and he makes this muffled little keening sound that almost has me coming in my pants.

 We're not supposed to do any anal tonight, but I can't resist stroking a hand down Connor's smooth ass crack, spread and open and so sweet I want to lick it. Connor whimpers a little and I pull my hand away. "Don't worry. I'm not going to do anything you don't want to. OK?" I soothe and he relaxes again. "You are so beautiful." -He sigh.- "So strong and brave for me." -A whine.- "My Good Boy," I finish and Connor's whole body goes tight for a moment as he moans out loud and turns his head to look up at me with blown out eyes all hooded in the low light of my shadow.

"Please, Sir," he murmurs.

"What do need, Boy?"

"I-I need...Please!"

"Speak up for me like a Good Boy," I urge him.

"...need you to sp-spa...spank me, Sir. Please?"

I raise an eyebrow at him in mock-surprise. We talked about this part too, how Connor wanted to try begging for it. "Are you saying you need to be punished? Have you been a Bad Boy?"

"NO! No. No. No, Sir. I-I want to be good, but um..." His blush goes an even deeper red.

"But what, Boy? Go on," I egg him on with feigning impatience.

"Good Boys deserve spankings too!" Conner exclaims, afraid he's angered me.

"Oh. Is that how it is? Well I suppose you're right about that. Do you feel like you need a spanking to remind you that you are a Good Boy?"

Connor nods frantically. "Yours, Sir!" he adds.

"So you know you're  _my_ Good Boy," I agree, and he goes lax in relief.

"Yours," he sighs.

* * *

 After Everything is said and done Connor is snuggled up to me on the bed, glowing red ass cheeks tended with soothing cream. The both of us buried under a dozen blankets.

Connor professes his gratitude against my neck for the fifth time in half an hour since we started aftercare, so I know he is comming up from subspace slow and steady. I kiss the top of his head again and Connor squirms happily, riding the endorphins to the max. When I reach out to get the bottle of juice off the bed side table again Connor fusses at me until my arm returns and puts the baby-proof straw to his mouth so he can suckle some more fluids.

This has got to be my favorite part of scen play. Getting to nurture and care, letting my protective instincts take over and focus on this one person. And Connor has to be the best sub I have ever played with. I desperately hope he might be open for another play session.  
  
Once Connor looks like he has stopped drinking I return the bottle and continue to drag my fingers through his hair in slow circles until he falls asleep.

I kiss his forehead again and whisper a wistful, "Sweet dreams, my Good Boy."


	5. N8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a thing I wrote after I got inspiration from some art by Daedalos  
> Links to the twitter post of the images used here:  
> https://twitter.com/daedalosart/status/995636261896339456  
> https://twitter.com/daedalosart/status/996084187890270208

N8 

  
  


In the top secret military research facility, internally known as Base 69, there was a locked room infamous among the Base 69 personnel.

 

The room was designated for a single research subject, and the door simply had the sprayed-on label of **N8** in blocky font to distinguish it from the many other identical door that populated the western corridor complex of Base 69.

 

Subject N8 was eagerly awaiting the arrival of the Caretaker, otherwise known by the Base 69 personnel as agent 816. N8 did not know exactly when Caretaker would come, only that he always came when N8 needed him most; when the constant aching heat in N8’s body slowly started to grow into burning pain.

 

The Caretaker would come to take away the pain and make N8 feel better again. He would bring food and, maybe, if N8 was good enough Caretaker might even give N8 some treats. But that was a _secret_ , Caretaker had told him.

 

\---

 

Agent 816 hurried down the corridor toward the muffled cries of his ward. He already had his access card ready in hand when he got to the reinforced steel doors, quickly flashing it over the scanner on the wall so as not to waste any more time.

 

The door opened, accompanied by an jump in volume of the hurt animal noises and 816 flinched at a particularly loud roar.

 

“I'm here, Nate. I'm here!” Agent 816 called as he stepped inside the bare concrete box that made up N8’s containment cell. 

 

N8, or ‘Nate’ as 816 had come to calling him -- _It,_ technically. Subject N8 was listed as a failed experiment. Nothing more than a faulty prototype kept for posterity. One in a long line of attempts to create magical super weapons for the army. But Agent 816 didn't care about that, and nobody needed to know if he wasn't following the appropriate protocol when he handled Nate-- was pouting up at 816 from his crouched form, but quieted down to merely whimper and yowl impatiently at 816.

 

N8 looked absolutely miserable, his huge frame slumped, his bright fur slicked in sweat and his tail whipping back and forth in agitation.

 

 

“I'm sorry, buddy. There was a meeting and I had to give a report. I didn't forget about you, I promise. I ran the whole way here from central command and-”

 

816’s rambling got interrupted by another loud and desperate whine from N8, straining against the chains that kept him from reaching the door.

 

“Shit! Sorry. Sorry, I'll-right away.” 816 dug through his pockets for the controller. Once found, 816 pressed a button on the small plastic tag and N8 groaned in relief as his penis was released.

 

The green smart-matter cover that had been installed over N8’s groin and behind, melted away and flowed like thick oil back to the reservoir plug anchored in N8’s rectum. This allowed N8’s prodigious member to flop to the floor after being compressed by the tight pouch.

 

N8 sighed in relief, already half-hard a second later.

 

 

“Feels good doesn't it, buddy,” 816 crooned, N8 blushed at the friendly tone and grew fully erect in a minute. “Yeah. You're a big boy aren't you? You feeling good and ready to release some of that pressure, big guy?” 816 continued.

 

 

N8 rumbled agreeably, perking up and making excited eye contact with Caretaker.

 

“You're a very good boy, Nate,” 816 praised.

 

N8 shuddered and released a tiny moan; he loved hearing Caretaker call him _good boy_ , it felt so good. 

 

A sudden contact to N8’s cock startled him to open his eyes, not realizing they were closed. 

 

816 was crouching in front of N8, touching his already precome-slick cock, making N8 feel even better.

 

The chains rattled when N8 surged forward to bury his face in Caretaker's neck. 

 

816 staggered backwards on his ass under the pressure of over four hundred pounds of raw strength and huffed a laugh at Nate’s ticklish scruff but continued stroking.

 

N8 pulled in great huffs of Caretaker’s scent; kindness, joy, happiness. And so real and different from the dry-nothing smell of this hard place. N8 had missed Caretaker so.

 

816 dragged his thumb over the slit of Nate’s cock, which made him whine loudly. “There we go, just like that. What a good boy you are for me, Nate,” he crooned in N8's ear. “Again?” 816 repeated the stroke and N8 moaned, quickly approaching the edge.

 

The floor underneath them started to rumble. Just a little bit. But they paid no mind.

 

“Go on, Nate,” 816 encouraged, moving to the side but rubbed N8's fuzzy ear. “Cum. You have permission, Nate. I want to see you cum.”

 

N8 did not disappoint. 

 

With a final little roar N8 let go and released a figurative shotgun blast of hot seed from his thick cock. The ground shook a little under them, but barely enough to notice. Immediately after another shot of cum joined the first on the floor, and a third, and fourth, five, six, seven in total. Forming a formidable pool of slowly cooling seed in front of N8, who huffed and sighed contently against his Caretaker.

 

 

\---

 

The next time someone came for N8 it wasn't his Caretaker, and it wasn't to tend to the burning need in N8's body. The ones who came had weapons and armor: Soldiers, N8 knew, and they moved N8 to a new room, bigger than the concrete box he had known for as long as he could remember.

 

In the new and strange place the Soldiers put new and heavier restraints on N8. First the Soldiers wrapped N8's face in a tight muzzle which forced a thick silicone cock into his mouth and down his throat. It tasted fake and terrible and made it hard to breath. Then they put a metal cage around his dick that crushed it and hurt almost as bad as the burning in his balls. They pulled the chains on his arms and legs and collar so tight N8 couldn't even move a muscle on the little platform they put him on. N8 didn't understand why the Soldiers were doing this to him.

 

 

Then the Soldiers left and the White Coats appeared.

 

Then the fucking machine entered him and worked him over until the pleasure outweighed the fear and the ground shook under the White Coats’ feet even more than before.

 

Then the White Coats tried adding electric little clamps that bit down on N8’s nipples and shocked him until the same thing happened.

Then the White Coats tried hitting N8 with whips and canes and floggers all over until the pain mixed with the pleasure and N8 surrendered to the feeling. 

 

The ground didn't shake that time and the White Coats seemed to liked that so they kept on doing those things to N8, sometimes trying different things but always trying to find the things that while blanking out N8's world in pleasure-pain, wouldn't make the ground shake.

 

Every time N8 came the White Coats would gather his seed in beakers and do stuff to it, leaving N8 sad and sore and cold and alone on the platform until they started again.  

 

N8 didn't know who they were or why the White Coats did all this to him, except for one of the White Coats, the one with the Evil Smile. N8 remembered the Evil Smile from the strange time before the small room and Caretaker. N8 remembered pain and fear just like this from that time too.

 

 

It took some time, but N8 finally figured out what was happening: Once, Caretaker must have rescued N8 from the Evil Smile, but now the Evil Smile had taken N8 back. Maybe even killed Caretaker.

 

Thinking about it made N8 hurt inside in a way that had nothing to do with what the White Coats were doing to him.

 

N8 knew he needed to get out. Get away from the Evil Smile and the White Coats. Find Caretaker if he was still alive.

 

The White Coats would sometimes loosen the chains to clean N8 with hoses and stiff brushes on on long poles. N8 pretended to not fight back, to appear weak and tired when he was in fact gathering his strength. Slowly the White Coats put their guard down.

 

They hadn't even put a single binding back. The White Coats had just taken the heavy cuffs off one at a time to clean N8 while he played dead. They never saw it coming.

 

In a second all the White Coats were bleeding red on the ground and N8 was out the door. On the other side was a nearly endless maze of corridors and doors and rooms.

 

At first N8 tried to find Caretaker. But the only thing he found were more Soldiers.

 

Their guns fired, and N8 felt the bullet bite his flesh.

The rage he'd felt when he killed the White Coats flared even brighter.

 

N8 wanted to bite and tear but couldn't because the muzzle was still strapped on to his face. The Soldiers died just as quickly as the White Coats had anyway. N8’s claws were sharp enough to cut through armor and bone like butter.

 

When N8 had torn through four units of Soldiers, moving upwards on instinct, he finally caught the scent of fresh air.

 

Standing frozen in the gates of Base 69, N8 gazed out into the wide open world. N8 had never known anything other than closed rooms and cold concrete floors and the pale fluorescent lights.

 

N8 whimpered behind the muzzle. He hadn't found Caretaker yet. And if he ran into the big outside he might never find Caretaker. But N8 knew, deep down, under the burning need and the helpless rage, that Caretaker was Gone.

 

It hurt worse than the bullets still lodged in his body. So N8 ran. Ran from the dark and horrible place that was all he had ever known. Ran from the pain in his heart. Ran from the rage. N8 ran and ran and ran.

 

Until he couldn't run any longer.

 

N8 found himself stumbling in front of an endless body of water, exhausted and hungry and thirsty. The place were the water and land met was a wide band of soft sand.

 

The sun was setting into the water, turning everything red and beautifully purple. And that was the last thing N8 saw before everything turned black.

 

\---

 

Max had no idea who or _what_ the guy laying on his living room floor was. When Max found him an hour earlier, unconscious and bloody, on the beach, he'd felt a strong urge to make sure the mystery figure was ok and bring him home.

 

Too heavy to really lift on his own, Max had dragged him on to  the floor, hoping the mat would be soft enough instead of the couch. Though the tiger-man guy seemed too big to fit in any of Max’s furniture.

 

Max had at first made himself ignore the stuff on the unconscious guy. But now that he was cleaning the poor thing off and treating the bullet wounds he couldn't stop staring at the kinky getup: collar, chains, a muzzle and a freaking _cock cage_ . As well as a **N8** tag tattooed in black on his left pectoral.

 

_N8. Could that be his name?_ Max wondered.

 

In that moment N8 woke up. Still tired, he could do nothing but blink groggily up at the ceiling. Then he noticed the stranger standing above him and rolled up into a defensive crouch.

 

That is. N8 tried to get up, but his knees gave out halfway and sent him tumbling, ass over teakettle. N8 whimpered in pain at the still tender places from where he'd been hurt by the Soldiers.

 

“Hey. Hey. Hey. Take it easy there, buddy.” Max held his hands out in what he hoped was the universal peace sign. “I'm not going to hurt you. Promise.”

 

N8 huffed through the pain; he'd had worse. Then he looked back up at the stranger and scented the air. This new person didn't smell of cruelty like a Soldier or a White Coat. The room wasn't infused with the scents of cold concrete or stinging disinfectant. N8 slumped in exhausted relief: there was no threat.

 

Max just watched the jumpy half-feline fall back asleep, curled into a big lump like a house cat. Not knowing what else to do he figured _best to let a sleeping tiger be_ and went to sleep in his own room down the hall.

 

When Max woke up the next morning he wasn't entirely sure he hadn't just dreamed the whole thing up, but as soon as he got up to put on some clothes he heard a rustle of activities from just outside his bedroom door.

 

Full with trepidation Max slowly opened the door-- and a blurred mass of striped orange fur and muscles collided with his chest, sending him falling on his ass.

 

For a terrifying second Max thought he was going to get mauled. He closed his eyes and waited for death, but when he instead heard the groaning of a hungry stomach and a plaintive whine Max opened his eyes.

 

N8 was so very hungry and his balls were burning with need, but for once the hunger was stronger. N8 did not know how to remove the muzzle, and he couldn't eat with it on. Trying to claw at the straps had only gotten N8 a nicked ear, so we was not trying it again. N8’s only hope was this new person who had taken him in.

 

The hulking tiger hybrid was almost sitting on Max’s chest, pinched expression begging for help underneath the mask. Max sighed in relief and pushed at the giant cat who got off him obediently but kept looking at him expectantly.

 

“Alright, alright.” Max shook his head in disbelief. “I get it. You're hungry. I guess I should get you something to eat as thanks for not eating me.”

 

N8 made a confused sound, not quite understanding what the man meant except that he would take pity on N8 once more and get him food. Maybe, if N8 could manage to be especially good there would be treats? N8 hoped so. It would be nice to be a good boy again after all this time. N8 hurriedly crawled after the man when he walked to the kitchen.

 

Max didn't have any cat food since he didn't have a cat, and even then, Max didn't think it would have been appropriate. He did have a side of smoked salmon he'd found for an incredible sale price at the supermarket in town. He eyed the man-cat sitting at his feet, silently begging. With a sigh Max snatched the package of salmon.

 

N8 could smell the delicious food even through the tight plastic seal and heard his own stomach groan even louder. “Yes, yes. Just give me a moment!” the man admonished which made N8 duck his head and wrap his tail around his knees.

 

“Sorry. I didn't-- there we go. Stubborn package.” Max put the salmon on a cutting table and went to town deboning the fish. “Hang on just a little longer, please.”

 

The smell of good food got ten times stronger. It took everything N8 had not to crowd and instead stay like he'd been told, like a good boy.

 

Max put the deboned fish on a plate and was about to put it down on the floor when he remembered the muzzle. “Look,” Max sighed and put the plate back on the counter to the half-cat’s clear disappointment. “If I'm going to remove that, then you're going to have to behave. No biting or turning me into a were-tiger, or whatever, if that's what you are. Got it?”

 

N8 understood that he was not to bite the kind man. He didn't know what a _were-tiger_ was, but he nodded anyway and hoped that was correct. N8 wouldn't have bit the kind man anyway. He wanted to be a good boy, and a good boy did not bite the hand that fed him.

 

For good measure N8 laid down on his front, turned his head away and closed his eyes; making himself as vulnerable as possible to signal his submission.

 

Max blinked at the response. He hadn't seriously expected to be understood. While Max fiddled with the unfamiliar buckles on the head harness  he mused that despite all the animal behavior his new guest was clearly intelligent enough to understand him.

 

Max gawked at the eight-inch dildo that came out with the gag, wet with mucus, and threw it away in muted horror.

 

N8 coughed a little and let himself purr now that his throat was unobstructed. Though there was some pain from working his stiff jaw N8 shrugged it off and got back up to wait at attention like he knew he should. Shortly thereafter he was rewarded with a full plate of that delicious smelling food.

 

Max leaned back in a kitchen chair to take in the tiger-man. He was wolfing down the fish like he'd never seen food before. In between bites came crazy loud waves of purring and the occasional chirp.

 

N8 thought the food tasted better than it smelled. The White Coats had pushed a tube through the gag and pumped food into N8’s stomach, and before that Caretaker had always brought food that tasted good. But even that paled in comparison, N8 thought guiltily. The meat was soft and so easy to chew it melted in in his mouth. The taste was salty and fat and something else, dark and almost spicy, but N8 couldn't put his finger on it.

 

The plate was empty far too quickly, but a bowl of clear cold water was promptly provided so N8 drank his fill. When he was done N8 straightened up on his knees and bumped his head gently against the kind man’s hip, purring in gratitude.

 

Max didn't know what to do with himself at first when the tiger-man nuzzled up to him all affectionately. He settled for petting the dark mop of hair on top of the tiger-man’s head. The action lead to even louder purring. Out of of the blue, Max blurted, “What do I call you?”

 

N8 stopped purring. Leaning back, N8 tapped the mark on his chest.

 

“ _N-Eight_ , huh?” Max said. “A bit if a mouthful. How do you feel about Nate?” Max asked, not liking the idea of referring to the tiger hybrid with a serial numbers. Even though _Nate_ clearly wasn't human, he still deserved a proper name.

 

N8 froze. Only Caretaker ever called him Nate. Was this kind man going to be N8’s new Caretaker? The pain of losing Caretaker was still fresh, but N8 knew he needed someone like that. N8 wanted a Caretaker. N8 smiles up at his new Caretaker and nodded.

 

“O-oh. Ok. Nate it is then.”

 

The day passed quickly after that. New Caretaker showed N8 around the house; where the bathroom was and where he wasn't allowed go. Caretaker also took a look at the now healed bullet wounds and removed the bandages. N8 settled in and found that his favorite spot was draped over the side of the couch, head resting in Caretaker's lap, with Caretaker's fingers carding idly through N8's hair. The afternoon sun through the windows felt especially nice warming N8's back. So nice in fact that N8 fell asleep there for a couple of hours.

 

Max had to be very careful when he pulled his phone out, but eventually he got it out without waking Nate by accident. He simply had to take a picture because of how adorable Nate looked taking a catnap halfway over his lap. Max didn't even mind his legs going slightly numb from the weight.

 

The sun was no longer warming N8 when he woke up. Instead that constant burning heat inside of him had grown into a pain N8 couldn't ignore anymore. He would need Caretaker to make him feel better. Yes. Caretaker was going to make N8 feel so good, N8 thought. N8 would just have to be a good boy and Caretaker would touch N8 and reward him, and it was going to be awesome.

 

A low groan disturbed Max from his online search for answers. He'd just gotten halfway through an article on BDSM gear to try and trace the stuff locked on Nate’s body to a possible manufacturer. At first Max had tried to find out _what_ Nate was, but hadn't found anything useful. By now his legs were well and truly asleep from the weight in his lap, but there was no mistaking the shifting and rutting of Nate’s hips against Max’s naked shin. Then Nate looked up at Max with the most intense set of smoldering bedroom-eyes Max had ever seen.

 

Caretaker smelled so good. Warm and kind and just right. Then his scent suddenly spiked with sharp arousal as soon as N8 looked up at Caretaker with a pleading expression. N8 whimpered in need and pressed his face into the hardness between Caretaker's legs.

 

“Wow-wow-wow!” Max exclaimed and pushed back weakly. “Slow it down there, tiger. You wanna play, huh, big guy?” To which Nate yowled plaintively before stopping all together, looking guilty like he expected a scolding.

 

N8 has to be a good boy or else Caretaker will go away and leave N8 alone with the burning! N8 pulls back to kneel up at attention. Maybe N8 can still show Caretaker what a good boy N8 could be.

 

As Nate pulled back, Max noticed Nate’s pulsing, red-flushed cock trapped soft in the cage still locked around it. Max remembered from the online article that chastity devices were made to be tamper proof and inescapable, and the lock on Nate looked very advanced even for its size. So there was no way Max was going to get the cock cage off Nate without some heavy power-tools. He had read about a clever technique to relieve the pressure though, something called _prostate milking._

 

Caretaker had N8 get up on the sofa on all fours, turned away from Caretaker but within easy reach. N8 didn't care what Caretaker was going to do, just that he was going to take away the roiling heat. A light, exploratory touch to N8's swollen balls made N8 hiss in pain, but Caretaker just pet his ass soothingly. N8 twitched his tail in expectation when Caretaker started gently prodding his hole.

 

Fortunately Max had a tube of hand lotion conveniently close by on the side table. The online article had insisted on using lots of lube, but the slippery cream would have to do. Max took a moment to marvel at the thin cover of bright fur over Nate’s ass; soft like velvet. His hole was a dark, tight little pucker of bare skin, but it eased open beautifully like nothing else around Max’s finger.

 

N8 whined at the feeling of being breached. It was similar to the probes the White Coats put in him, yet so different. Better. All good in fact, nothing hard or cold or cruel about it. N8 couldn't help but press back into that touch. Then the finger suddenly curved and rubbed against something that felt _really_ good. N8 arched his back and moaned loudly.

 

Nate’s response struck Max dumb. The wanton display had him hard in his pants so fast he felt lightheaded. He rubbed against Nate’s prostate again and got another moan. “Yeah,” he croaked. “You like that? Just wait for it, I'll make you feel even better.” Nate was growing more loose, so Max decided to go for it and wet another finger before slowly easing it in next to the first.

 

N8 didn't know what to do with the stretching not-pain. It woke up something like a hunger inside. He didn’t do anything. Just trusted to let Caretaker _take care_ of him. The pleasure was starting to drive away the pressing pain. Leaving N8 with nothing but the sensation of Caretaker’s fingers doing wonderful things to his ass.

 

Max carefully worked up to three fingers sliding in and out of Nate without any resistance before he couldn't hold himself back anymore. Pulled the fingers out and reached for a condom packet he always had in his wallet with his clean hand. He got the foil open with his teeth and pulled the rubber down his cock in a maneuver that had taken years to perfect. “Hold on. Give me minute,” Max gasped as he got into position.

 

N8 whined sadly as Caretaker's touch disappeared. Why was Caretaker being so cruel? Hand N8 been a bad boy? N8 needed Caretaker back! And then Caretaker was back. Back and looming over N8, making him feel small and submissive all over again. N8 lowered his shoulders to the bed, arching his back on instinct to show his readiness. He was rewarded with the first press of Caretaker’s cock breaching him.

 

Max couldn't believe he was about to fuck a half-man-half-tiger hybrid. Nate’s ass was as hot and sweet as melting honey even through the condom. The muscles were squeezing around him in crazy pulses but not too tight, just inviting. Max let his hands rove over Nate’s expansive back exploratory, searching for erogenous zones.

 

When Caretaker's clever fingers came around N8 to gently play with his nipples, N8 almost came. The slow and steady thrusting was enough to drive him insane with want. It was hot and alive inside of N8, so different from the cold and dead toys the White Coats used. It was almost perfect because he could feel there was something there, blocking the true contact deep inside that N8 needed.

 

The sounds that came from Nate at the touch to his nipples almost had Max shooting off, but he held it back by the skin of his nose. Instead Max focused on hitting Nate’s prostate again. After all, this was supposed to be about Nate’s pleasure. Going by the sound Nate made next, Max guessed he'd found it and hurried his tempo. He wanted to nail Nate’s pleasure spot until the tiger-man came from it. Which didn't take very long.

 

N8 could feel it building. The pleasure surged through his ass and balls and caged cock. Not a full orgasms but something much more drawn out and sweeter for it. The pain left N8’s body at the same time as Caretaker fucked the pleasure into him with unrelenting determination. Distantly, N8 was aware his balls were emptying onto the soft cushion underneath him, the buildup of cum slowly dripping out. And the best part was that the earth did not shake.

 

After Max blew his load in what was possibly the best orgasms of his life he carefully got rid of the condom and cleaned Nate and himself of with a wet wipe. Nate complained when Max left the couch to fetch some drink and snacks for the aftercare, but Nate forgave him after Max fed him a couple of grapes by hand. After all that, Max wrapped them both in a big blanket, still laying on top of Nate on the couch and played with Nate’s hair until the tiger-man fell asleep. Max soon followed him.

 

The End


End file.
